


How Barbra Became Bobbi

by dorkyduckling



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Homophobia, Sexism, There are no graphic rape scenes it's just implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkyduckling/pseuds/dorkyduckling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbra Morse left her small town and never looked back, but Bobbi Morse made something out of herself. Bobbi Morse became a SHIELD Agent. Barbra had been pushed behind her and Bobbi would be the one to prove to herself she was worth something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Barbra Became Bobbi

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really heavy headcanon idea of Bobbi's back story. It's most likely wrong but I just like this idea. The idea that Bobbi took a shitty childhood and turned it into something to push her. I'm very proud of this and hope I don't get an angry mob after me. As I mentioned, it's not graphic but Bobbi does experience sexual abuse from her father as well as other abuse.
> 
> I'm sorry?
> 
> Also I threw in the idea that Bobbi is bisexual/pansexual, which Adrianne Palicki sort of implied.

Barbra Morse left her small hometown and never looked back. 

Bobbi Morse went out and made something of herself. 

Bobbi Morse proved to everyone that girls were just as capable as boys. 

Bobbi Morse fought for confidence in herself, battling insecurity every step of the way.

Bobbi Morse learned how to be comfortable in her own body as well as her sexuality.

Bobbi Morse learned how to fight and protect herself, but also to protect others. 

Bobbi Morse surrounded herself with people who cared. 

Because Barbra Morse knew what it was like to have no one. To cry out for help that was never going to come. She knew what it was like to feel worthless, feel like you were a waste of space. 

Barbra Morse knew the feeling of not being good enough simply because of her gender. It was a devastating when she realized no matter what she did, it wouldn't matter. She was always going to be nothing because she was a girl. 

Barbra Morse knew what it was like to fear your own home. To fear not the monsters that lurked under other children's beds, but the monsters you called Mama and Daddy. 

That's why Bobbi put Barbra behind her and made herself into what she'd always wanted. She became someone she could finally be proud of. No one was ever going to tell her she was worthless again. 

She taught herself not to flinch when someone entered her personal space. Instead she learned to dodge and hit back. She learned not to see herself as broken or dirty, but instead as a powerful, beautiful woman.

That didn't mean she didn't remember what she had fled. No, she remembered, and that's why she could do what she did. It made her powerful, not weak. 

Barbra Mary Morse was born May 6th, 1983 in a small town in Ohio. She had been named after one of her grandmothers and Mother Mary. The town was nothing special. Everyone was too obsessed with football, and everyone spent Sunday morning in church. Barbra's father was the preacher, giving loud, rousing sermons about sin and Hell. Her earliest memory was sitting in the front pew, wearing a dress she hated, and watching her father yell about eternal damnation. She even remembered the look her mother had given her when she got fidgety. The look said 'behave or I'll tell your father'. Barbra remembered being afraid of her father her entire life. It was a constant presence. 

His friends used to laugh and joke about how Barbra was the most well behaved child in town, maybe they should get some tips. A joke that carried all the way into her teen years. None of them meant it of course. None of the other mothers would allow their children to be treated that way. Barbra's mother encouraged it, turned the other cheek when things went too far. 

Things went too far a lot. The best example of this happened when she was about five. It was Sunday and Barbra was still wearing her best dress. It was an awful, pink monstrosity, made of itchy fabric she hated. The family was eating dinner, her father was already drinking. She was still at the age where her fear of her father was outweighed by her eagerness to share with him. At five she still craved approval, still not getting it would never happen. 

"I made a new friend today!" Barbra announced, poking at a cooked carrot with her fork. She always ate everything on her plate. Her parents didn't feed her the next day if she didn't. Besides, she did like carrots alright. Better than green beans and broccoli. 

"Oh?" Her mother raised an eyebrow, a black eye and a split lip gracing her features. Something Barbra realized from an early age was that her mother was just as scared of her father. Unfortunately she was also a coward who knew if Barbra was getting hit, she wouldn't be. 

"Her name's Lucy." Barbra nodded eagerly. Her father only made a small grunt of acknowledgment. 

"Lucy? The little blonde girl with pigtails?" Her mother asked. 

"Yeah! She's got pretty hairs and little spots on her face." Barbra bounced in her seat. 

"Sit still, Barbra!" Her father barked and she immediately stopped. 

"Sorry, sir." Barbra mumbled quickly. He gave her a warning look before returning to shoveling food in his mouth. 

"What did you two play?" Her mother said, hoping to steer the conversation back. 

"Princesses! Lucy gots to be the princess. I saved her! Like a prince." Barbra explained. "She even gave me a kiss! On the lips an' everything!" She started giggling, because she'd found it funny. For her it was something silly. The room went completely silent after her story, the scraping of her father's fork and knife stopped. Her mother's face went sheet white as she ducked her head to stare at her plate. Her father's face went purple with rage. 

"What?!" He growled, slamming his fists on the table. Barbra cowered, confused as to what she'd done wrong this time.

"Daddy, was I bad girl again?" She asked fearfully. 

"You weren't just a bad girl, Barbra! You were a sinner and sinners go to Hell. Girls don't kiss other girls, do you understand me?" He was yelling and stood from his seat. He walked over to Barbra, yanking her up by the collar off her dress. 

"Yes, Daddy!" Barbra cried. 

"Do you want to burn in Hell!" He tightened his grip, shaking her.

"No, Daddy! I don't wanna go to Hell." She was sobbing. He gave her a look of disgust before throwing her to the ground. 

"You are never to go near that girl again, do you understand me?" Her father stood over her, as she pulled her knees to her chest. She didn't understand why he was so angry. 

"Yes, Daddy!" She squeaked. 

"Yes, sir!" He corrected, back handing her across the face. Barbra cried out, burying her face in her knees. 

"Yes sir!" 

"Get to your God damn room, now!" He barked and Barbra scrambled off to her room, going as fast as she could. Once she got there she went to the edge of her bed, fiighting the urge to curl up and cry. Kneeling on the ground, she folded her hands just like she had been taught to pray. 

"Hi, Mr God and Mr Jesus. I'm sorry I've been bad. I don't wanna be a sinner, I don't wanna go to Hell. I dunno why Daddy's so mad. I know it's my fault but I dunno why. He's always so mad. It makes me sad and I just wanna be a good girl." Barbra whispered, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "Please help me, make him stop hittin' me. I know he don't mean it. Maybe you can make Mama love me too!" 

Bobbi remembered how hard she prayed that night, things only got worse.

It must of been the middle of the night, Barbra had long since cried herself to sleep. The moon was making it just barely light in her room. She didn't even realize her father had entered the room until a hand clapped over her mouth. It woke her with a start, and she tried to scream. 

"I'll make sure no daughter of mine is a God damn dyke." His words were slurring. He was so close to her, she could smell the beer on his breath. It smelled so bad. She always hated that smell. The sound of a zipper startled her. "I'll fix you."

Barbra spent a lot of her nights hiding in the closet after that. Not that it really matter, but it made her feel better. She'd hide among the clothes and clutch her teddy bear, praying he'd leave her alone for just one night. Fortunately as she grew older, it grew more sporadic and she wasn't sure if that scared her more. 

One of the problems with Barbra's father was his utter disregard for women. And girls. He saw her mother and her as useless, a waste of resources. His wife was only good for pleasing him and Barbra wasn't even good for that. He had wanted a son. 

His sexism was even worse than his racism, which wasn't much better. He didn't like Barbra playing with any of the black children and he mostly tolerated them at church. Still, black men were still more useful in his eyes than women. 

He finally got his son when Barbra was seven. Her father's dreams came true in the form of Noah Joseph Morse, born August 29th, 1990. 

Noah was everything he wanted and he got it. He wouldn't dare lay a hand on Noah. Not even for discipline. Noah knew it too and took advantage of the fact. More often than not, his sister was punished instead. It was about the time she turned ten that Barbra realized no matter what she did, she would never be good enough because she was a girl. At eleven she made one last ditch effort to try to make him proud.

She tried out for the football team.

While the boys laughed at her for it, the coach allowed her to try and even found himself impressed at her skills. If her father taught her anything but fear, it was football. She would show the town how good she was. Her father would be proud.

He wasn't.

She spent the day after she told him in the ER. Needless to say, her father wasn't going to support her in her football playing. She didn't care, she would do it anyway. There were countless games played with broken bones and bruised skin, it only made her better at it. 

When Barbra was 13 she met a girl named Janie. While Barbra had found herself drawn to boys, she had always refused to feel the same about girls. Her father had taught her that was a one way ticket to Hell. Janie though, Janie was different than most of the other girls in town. She was new and her parents didn't take her to church. They didn't even believe in God! An idea so foreign to Barbra she'd never even considered it. Janie's parents liked Barbra. They let her spend the night whenever she wanted, they invited her for dinner, they included her in family game night, and treated her better than her own parents ever had. 

Janie even started calling her Bobbi. 

She insisted Bobbi suited her better than Barbra, and her parents agreed. It was a nice name, it was definitely better than Barbra. She'd just never had a nickname before. The feeling it gave her was nothing like anything she'd felt before. She felt loved, she felt like she belonged. 

On the night of Janie's 14th birthday, the two teenagers kissed in the pool. From there the two grew closer and Janie's parents encouraged it. Barbra didn't even dare tell her parents. They already were wary because Janie and her parents didn't go to church. Barbra lied through her teeth about anything she ever did, spending as much time as her parents would allow. Some nights after her father would come into her room, she'd sneak out the window and run to Janie's house. Janie's parents never questioned it when they found them cuddled together in the twin bed. Janie never said anything either. She tended wounds and kissed bruises like it was nothing. 

The scar did earn a raised eyebrow from Janie. Scars littered Barbra's body, but the most prominent was the one on her back. A large burn scar at the very top of her back. You couldn't see if she was wearing a bra. It was one of her uglier scars, compared to the various cuts from a pocket knife and burns from a cigarette. The burn scar was different, that one was self inflicted. 

Barbra confessed the entire story to Janie one night she was sleeping over. Her father had carved a an ugly insult into her skin when she was 11, leaving a scar of the word. Barbra had taken her mother's curling iron to her skin so the word wouldn't be so prominent. Janue just held her after she heard, holding her tightly. It was bliss. 

One of Barbra's happiest memories was with Isabelle. The night was clear, beautiful stars twinkling in inky blackness of a nice summer night. Barbra and Janie were lying in the yard, staring up at them in wonder. Barbra was pointing out constellations, naming them off with one hand and holding Janie's hand with her other. Breezes tickled the trees, brushing across bare skin. It wasn't uncomfortably cold, but the air did leave goosebumps on their skin. Barbra was in the middle of telling Orion's story when Janie cut her off.

"I love you, Bobbi." She said so quietly, it was was a wonder Barbra heard her.

"Love you too, you goof." Barbra giggled, turning her head to look at Isabelle. Isabelle wasn't laughing when she turned though. Her face was serious, her eyes shiny.

"No, I love love you." Janie repeated, emphasizing the second love. Barbra furrowed her brown in confusion before realization dawned on her.

"Oh I love love you too, silly." Barbra laughed. Janie seemed to relax and leaned in to kiss her best friend, and sorta girlfriend.

It couldn't last forever. 

One of her father's alter boys caught Barbra and Janie kissing behind the bleachers, and relayed the news to her father. She was 16 and she thought by then she could keep him at bay. She should have been stronger than him. Except he used Janie as leverage. He threatened to kill her if Barbra ever went near her or her house again. He was not going to have a disgusting sinner for a daughter. It was bad enough he had a daughter at all.

Noah laughed when she ended up in the hospital for back talking. 

Janie and her family moved away that summer. 

That was the last straw. The day she graduated High Schools she was gone. She was going to leave, leave the bigoted small town and never come back. Never look back. She played football hard, putting her all into every game. It was her chance to get a full ride out of there. A football scholarship was all she needed. 

Ohio State gave her just that. The college wanted her and she was all too ready to get out. She didn't even wait out the summer, she packed up her limited belongings and left. 

Bobbi Morse majored in bio chem, earning her PHD faster than any student they'd ever seen before. That's where SHIELD found her. They offered her a place at the Academy of Science and Technology. Bobbi spent a year there before she transferred to the Academy of Operations. By the time she graduated, and later met Hunter, any trace of her childhood had been wiped from her personality. Tattoos covered obvious scars and others were explained away by missions. 

Bobbi Morse was an Agent of SHIELD and she was good at her job. There was nothing more anyone needed to know. Not even Hunter.


End file.
